Of The Past
by querydreary
Summary: James Potter died tragically young protecting his wife and son. James Potter woke up tragically young with no wife and son. (James Potter goes back in the past AU)
1. Chapter 1

tried looking for james potter time travel fanfic, only thing i got was him traveling to the future with harry potter and/or his kids. its 2017, c'mon.

* * *

James found himself in a predicament.

Nothing big or too horrible, just that he was stuck in the past. Stuck in the god damn 60's, back before Hogwarts, Lily, Harry- everything.

He had been here for the past ten hours and had attempted to try to snap out of this daydream or magic, _without_ a wand.

Time travel, itself, was real. The time turner existed, so the idea of time travel in the wizarding world wasn't a far cry from the truth.

It was more the fact he was in his nine year old body.

He nervously chewed at his fingernails as his eyes wandered over to the window, observing the scenary before him. Thoughts of Lily, Harry, Voldemort, the prophecy-

James anxiously shifted from his position on the windowsill.

He remembers dying.

He remembers the green light and from their, he remembers nothing, other than the fact that he died. Was this death? Was Lily and Harry safe? Did they escape while he was stalling for time? Did Dumbledore get their emergency floo?

Sighing, James ran a hand over his hair, disheveling it into a more tangled mess. It was the unruliest it's ever been. In the past- or, er, future, Lily had urged him to comb it down a bit and while it wasn't the neatest, it was definitely an improvement.

Fond memories entered his mind and he lightly smiled before the sinking feeling of worry anchore itself down in his chest once more.

Lily and Harry could possibly be on the run right now, being persecuted by the Dark Lord himself, and here he was, in his snitch patterened pajamas as a nine year old, stuck _way_ in the past.

In the face of war, he always wanted to cry. Cry his feelings out and get drunk on some firewhiskey., but he never did. He held it back and powered through the feelings because he had his family besides him.

Today, he has no family and he doesn't have the heart to hold back his tears.

One minute he's thinking about Lily humming some song from a muggle radio while flipping pancakes on a pan without magic and the next, he feels his vision blurring. He sniffles and leans the side of his head against the window pane and attempted to steady his shaking emotions.

 _Force it down._

Lily laughing.

 _Forget about it_.

Harry grabbing at his fingers.

 _Everything's going to be okay._

Lily's eyes twinkling with mirth as she urges James over to see Harry's attempts to stand.

He blinked. The tears left his eyes and flowed down his cheeks, leaving a tear -stained trail behind on his cheeks.

Scrubbing the tears harshly against the sleeves of his pajamas, he attempts to forget about it. It was nearing four o'clock (James strained to look at the clock with the moonlight as his only light source) and it was nearing morning.

James hopped off his windowsill and walked to his bed. He pulled his glasses off and set them down gently on the desk besides his bed.

He went deep underneath the warm covers and yet, he had never felt so _cold_ in his life.

* * *

"Fleamont, do you think James is a bit.. off?" Euphemia Potter questioned her husband as her eyes flickered back and forth to the levitating dishes and self-cooking bacon from her son.

At her words, Fleamont teared his eyes away from his newspaper and glanced at his son, who was absentmindedly laid on the couch instead of eating breakfast like usual.

He's seen better days, that was a definite.

Normally, a very energetic James would be stuffing his face by now with bacon and cheese, while simultaneously making his father promise him to take him out to the Quidditch Pitch.

"Ah, he's just down," Fleamont waved his wife down. He's experienced these type of random mood swings, it wasn't unusual. "If he hasn't cheered up by the time I get home from work, I'll take him to the Quidditch Pitch. That ought to cheer him right up."

When Fleamont came back home, his son was still in a depressive state. So he did good on his promise, despite being tired from work, and took his son to the Quidditch Pitch.

Some good tossing around the Quaffle and James wasn't radiating exuberance like usual, but he definitely cheered up. Not to mention, he was doing moves that seemingly came out of nowhere. Fleamont watched, mouth agape, as he saw James doing a loop-de-loop and a swirl at neck-breaking speed.

He normally would've yelled at James for being so reckless _,_ but he was too flabbergasted to react. He knew his son had natural talent at quidditch for his age, but to be this good? It was seemingly impossible for nine year old.

When James finished and was cooling down as he lazily wandered the skies, Fleamont questioned, "Where'd you learn that James?"

"Oh? The Knock Out Feint? In fifth yea-" James widened his eyes and instantly snapped his mouth shut.

He didn't pry or say something about his son's weird behavior. He only gave him a small pat, and encouraging smile. In response to these encouragements, he expected a slight huff and a remark about how he "wasn't a child anymore." Maybe even a small smile on those rare occasion.

What he didn't expect was a hug that just came at him.

With such strength, James pulled him towards him with a bone-crushing hug. Fleamomt almost lost his balance in surprise, but managed to regain it and hold James steady from their almost-toppling position. "Something the matter, James?"

"Nothing- just... missed you." His voice was a bit muffled against his clothes, but he heard him all the son. Strange, considering the longest he's been out this week for during the direction of his work.

But he said nothing as just enjoyed the hug that his son gave him. After all, hugs from his son who claimed to be an "adult" now, were few and rare.

His son was acting quite strange at the moment, but the next day, he'll be the old flamboyant James who called hugs "childish".

* * *

James never got his flair or fire back.

He had begun to shut himself in and instead of his usual prank gambits and childish antics, he started reading books in their library. His dad now often jokes that the once "headstrong Gryffindor" was now becoming a Ravenclaw.

In a span of one day, it seemed as if James did a completely one-eighty in terms of his personality. The books that he'd never usually read were sprawled all over the floor as James read through the bulk of them. Fleamont supposed it was a good thing that James had taken up reading, but it was disconcerting to know that James had locked himself up in the library and started isolating himself from the other kids.

The playmates assigned were once multitudinous and now, they were zero. James seemed to have no interest in playing with the other kids.

He rarely came out to eat either. Gone was the kid who stuffed himself and begged for seconds. Now, James came out, only when his mother forced him to eat.

Fleamont sighed at his thoughts and bit into his morning toast.

"More toast?"

He glanced up at his wife levitating a plate of french toast. "Sure. Did James eat any breakfast yet? I haven't seen him."

Euphemia's features turned into a frown. "No. He's holed up in the library. I'm planning on going upstairs to bring him some food to eat if he got hungry."

Sighing once more, Fleamont glanced at the clock.

"Need a raincheck with that toast, dear. I need to head to work. And tell him happy birthday for me."

He hoped his son would grow out of the shell he created.

* * *

James flipped through the last book of the pile for today.

It was tedious and mundane to go through so many books, but it was the only thing that made him feel like his Lily was still out there. He was reading the very books she enjoyed, the same authors she loved, the same titles she read. The one thing that Lily Potter loved to do the most was reading.

His finger traced the spidery words that etched itself onto the cover.

"Charms: The Theoretical View"

Lily was always good at charms.

He pushed away the thought and hastily finished the last of his book. When he reached the last page, he slammed the book shut, setting down the book besides him, stretching.

There should be breakfast on the table by now, he thought, checking the time. Sure enough, it was seven o'clock. His father usually left for work at this time.

He didn't go to eat a lot, half because he was busy reading and half because it left him uncomfortable to be seated with his once-dead parents. James definitely missed him, but seeing them was a so surreal, no matter how much into the past he _was_.

He got up from his seat on the library floors and quickly began putting the books back. Out of character for him, usually he'd magic it away or just leave it there, but he was wandless. He knew just how much Lily treasured her books and handled them with care, so he treated them with caution he'd expect Lily to have.

At the moment, he was hungry. So he went downstairs for some leftovers. What he didn't expect when going downstairs, was his mom to be standing in the doorway, holding a plateful of food.

"James? I was just going to come up," His mother said, surprised. She stepped away from the doorframe, allowing James to move downstairs into the hallways.

His heart went out for his mom. She had seemed to diligently went out of her way to make sure he had eaten. He was miffed at how much she seemed to care, but this was his mom. Guilt and shame filled his stomach when he thought back to how much he avoided her and his father. Perhaps, he'll actually start coming to meals now.

"I was hungry," He said, giving her the brightest smile he could muster. It fell a bit short on his usual bright ones, but it was enough to comfort his mother, who instantly beamed.

She grasped at his wrist and pulled him over to the bustling kitchen, as dishes were levitating as they washed themselves.

Seated on his old seat, the seat five year old him had proclaimed as his own, he was met with a plate of food. He digged into it, happily eating the familiar tasting food. Delicious as he once remembered it to be.

Though, it was a lot on one plate for a nine year old.

"Your father wished you a happy birthday, He wasn't able to say that to you in person, since you weren't at breakfast in the morning. He did get you that new broomstick you've been eyeing last month. We're going to have a party at tweleve, so the kids aren't h-"

James almost choked on a piece of toast.

"It's my birthday?"

Dates seemed to have fell short ever since he had arrived to the past.

His mother looked taken aback."Yes, James. How could you forget? You're usually so excited about how much closer to Hogwarts you are. It's one more year until Hogwarts. You're usually leaping in joy, by now."

"Right."

James took a bite out of his toast.


	2. Chapter 2

Got 1 favorite, and thats enough for me to updated lol

* * *

"Mom, I'll be alright," James said, fixing the most reassuring he could muster on his face for his mother. He awkwardly patted his mother's back as she hugged him tightly, not even bothering to hold back the tears.

The platform nine-and-three-quarters was filled with bustling wizards and witches, the overhead views of the new first years could clearly be seen. The loud excitement filled the air and the clear anticipation and joy was palpable. James wistfully looked at the other kids who smiled in joy.

If he focused enough, he could vaguely recognize a few faces that ended up in the death toll against Death Eaters. He, himself, ended up as one of them. Died by the hand on the Dark Lord himself.

He grasped the handles of his luggage at the thought.

"James," His father's voice snapped him out of his internal musings. James lifted his head towards his father's face, all to use to the feeling of being short by now. "Say hello to kitchen snacks at midnight, son." After he had received the Hogwarts letter, his dad started teaching him all about the secret entrances of Hogwarts, including the kitchen. Unbeknownst to him, James was the co-creator of the Marauder's Map itself. He had Hogwarts memorized like the back of his palms.

"Thanks dad," James said, offering him a smile as his mother let go of his frame from the crushing hug. "I'll be sure to get in Gryffindor."

"Whatever house you get into is fine, but... a fine choice you've decided on," His father said, giving him a wide grin as he ruffled his hair, messing it up even more. "Make us proud, son."

"I will dad," James replied. He picked up his luggage, took a deep breath and stepped forward.

* * *

When James chose a compartment, stepped onto the same compartment as last time.

His gaze wandered to the only other member of the mostly empty compartment.

Sirius Black.

Joy, excitement, expectations- all of that muddled in his head, emotions hitting his stomach in one punch. He sat down, seats away, and set his luggage down. He open it and rummaged through it for a bit before taking out a book. It was better to past time reading a book than sneaking glances at his old friend, mentally torturing himself with the sight of him.

He wanted to speak to his old friend, but fought the urge to do so. He knee that he'll break down crying with just talking to him.

Time passed as the train laid dormant, not moving as more kids packed the train. The compartment was still empty, except for James and Sirius. He sat, expectant waiting for the other two to arrive.

He sat anxiously in his seat, fidgeting as he kept glancing at the paragraphs of text to the closed compartment door.

Any moment now...

Minutes of excruciating impatience, the door opened to reveal a sniffling Lily in robes and Snape, wearing his robes under a beige-colored coat, seemingly comforting her. Exchanges of words were passed through them, but James was too distracted looking at Lily to care.

Lily- his Lily.

No.

The way she walked, the way she moved, the air around her- it seemed to different.

Perhaps he had expected _too_ much of her, despite her being past Lily. But that didn't stop the feeling of crushing disappointment as he watched her walk with an air of a child. James sank further into his seat. He had spent so many days, anticipating this reunion, only to be dropped headfirst off a building.

"You'd better be in Slytherin," Snape said, giving her a small reassuring smile. He placed a hand on her shoulder and gave her a gentle comforting squeeze.

This made James feel a pang of jealousy in his heart. Not because Snape was touching Lily, but rather, because Snape had a Lily to touch, speak to, to hold.

James had no one. He had lost his Lily and Harry.

Snape hadn't. He had only Lily, all to himself.

That greasy git.

He merely watched from the corner of his eyes, looking as discreet as possible under the guise he was still reading his book instead of listening intently at the two, as Lily wiped away her tears on the sleeves of her robes and grinned at him.

"Yeah. Slytherin," She agreed, giving Snape of those all-too familiar radiant smiles of hers.

James had missed those smiles. They looked so much like Lily's, but at the same time, lacked all the traits for it to be Lily's. She had the same dimples, same toothy smile- but it missed that mischievous twinkle in her eye, the loving gaze, and the half-smiles she's pull. All the things that made his Lily- well, Lily. He didn't know what to do. He felt like he was watching an impostor. Someone that wasn't Lily. He didn't know what to feel.

Hate? Despair? Loneliness?

All he knew was, he was alone, without Lily _or_ Harry.

"Of course. Slytherin's the best house there is," Snape said, beaming at Lily, with a childish glint, do unlike his old hateful self that James saw of his older self.

If James were any other James than himself, he would've made a fuss. He would've turned up his nose and mutter in disdain about how slimy Slytherins all were and loudly proclaim about heroic Gryffindor. He'd make Snape hate him forever, but more importantly, Lily hate him for the duration of their Hogwarts years.

But he is James Potter, a man in his twenties.

A man who's seen just how far prejudice and hatred could go. He saw just how _cruel_ war can be.

In the face of death and suffering, something as petty as a house seemed to be useless. So he stayed quiet and continued on reading his book quietly.

The whole train ride was uneventful without him and Sirius chasing the two and bonding over their mutual hate over Slytherin. Instead, it was filled with absentminded chatter from Lily and Snape, as he read, Sirius in the background, silently keeping to himself.

Very different from how he remember it.

He turned a page in "Transfiguration: The Fifth Year", the boring book he had practically memorized since his original fifth year, and kept silent.


End file.
